


Ultraviolence

by newrromantics



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7296610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newrromantics/pseuds/newrromantics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> The Upper East Side was like something from Fitzgerald or Thackeray. Teenagers acting like adults. Adults acting like teenagers. </i>
  <br/>
</p><p> Gossip Girl AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ultraviolence

**Author's Note:**

> because i am truly the epitome of Trash

Here is a piece of advice: _don't trust anybody._

 

•

Cordelia dangles the diamond bracelet from her fingers, lips pursed as she inspects it for flaws it doesn't have. Harmony falls into line next to her, handbag dangling precariously from her wrist.

"It's pretty." Harmony comments, the kind of girl who's quickly awed by anything sparkly she sees.

Cordelia rolls her eyes as she reattaches it on her wrist, rolling her eyes at her best-friend before hooking their arms together. "It's _okay._ " Her eyes flit over to where Angel's leaning against his locker, his eyes dark and _beautiful_ and the grey cashmere sweater she brought him for Christmas showing off his muscles perfectly. Harmony catches where her eyes have fallen to, a knowing sigh exhaled from her lips.

"Oh. It's a make-up present from Angel for standing you up." Harmony says, matter-of-fact like. Cordelia rolls her eyes, again, and lets out a sharp sigh.

"God, Harmony. Ever heard of _whispering_ things you don't want the whole world to know about? It's like you don't have a brain." Cordelia snaps. Smiling lightly at Angel as they pass him, her shoulders brushing lightly against his. He twists his head ever so slightly as the two girls strut away from him, his mouth parted open to say something, but Cordelia's too far down the hall for him to say anything.

Harmony giggles as they enter their first class of the day, "You're my hero." She sighs, half-joking, half-serious. Cordelia bangs her lips together and nods her head. _Everything is in place._ Her reign is going to be the best the school has ever seen. Cordelia has had Sunnydale prep underneath her thumb since the day she stepped inside the halls two years ago. But the only difference then was that it wasn't Harmony hanging by her side and feeding her compliments laced in _pretty_ because she was scared of what would happen if she didn't. It was Buffy Summers fingers wrapped around her elbow, her baby-blue eyes and air of California innocence making boys fall to their knees. Together, they'd been invincible. Unstoppable. But that was _then._

It was better this way. No competition for Sunnydale's Queen. It was _obviously_ already Cordelia's.

Harmony took her seat in the third row from the front, second from the back. Cordelia slid into the empty seat next to her left. Darla taking the seat on Harmony's left. Her eyes twinkling as she greeted Cordelia with a short _hello_ that Cordelia smiled politely at but didn't return one of her own. Cordelia was forgiving but she wasn't about to go and join hands with Darla Calloway and be her best friend -- _no way!_ She liked the girl well enough, the way she liked anyone that shared the same immense wealth as her and knew her Elie Saab from her Zuhair Murad. But, she didn't make it a habit to befriend the girls Angel keeps waiting on the sidelines after one of their fights, whether or not they're in her inner clique.

 _Speak of the devil._ Her eyes wander from Darla immediately to Angel as she hears his laugh, quiet above her ear as he brushes his fingers against her shoulder before falling into the chair behind hers. Anya rushes into class late bickering with Spike. Cordelia catches _misogynistic pig_ before Giles pushes his glasses up against his face and lets out a soft, awkward cough that commands the whole rooms attention. Anya takes the free seat next to her, rolling her eyes at Spike's rebuttal, about to launch into another tirade that Cordelia definitely approves of in the right circumstances. But, she wanted to go shopping after school instead of spending another afternoon in detention for joining in on the savage attacks Spike experiences daily. She places her hand over the top of Anya's as a soft warning, flicking her eyes over to where Giles stands in the front of the room.

"Save it for Saturday night." Cordelia whispers, half of a giggle spilling from her lips before she averts her full attention to the front of the class. Cordelia won't get into an Ivy League based on her last name alone — she wants more for herself than _that_. Getting in on her own merit matters; also, she doesn't want to leave it to fate and wind up like Cindy Terrance who was expecting to be accepted into Harvard from her name alone and ended up taking a gap year when her rejection letter came in the mail. Cordelia just shudders at the thought. Her dream is _Stanford_. Her grand-mother was an alumni. Her father met her mother there. It helped that it was all the way in California, too — far away from the halls of Manhattan, the scathing rumours and flurry of swirling silk on marble dance-floors. It was close to the beach and the sun and L.A. and it was the hushed whisper of many years underneath bed covers, fingers interlocked with a blonde best friend who hailed from the sunny coast. It had escaped the tainted memories that other memories with Buffy had unfortunately been covered in, thanks to the fact that she was a _legacy_ and no Summers had even set foot on the campus.

Half-way through the lesson Angel tapped her on the back of her shoulder with his pen, learning forward to whisper, "Uh, are you free tonight?"

Cordelia kept her eyes on the paper in front of her, her handwriting impeccable. Her name written in cursive script. Her points highlighted in pink. "Maybe." Cordelia wrote on the top of her page for Angel to see.

He leaned forward again, his eyes watching Giles in the front of the room carefully. "I, uh, wanted to see the new Captain America."

It's times like these — when Angel reveals himself to be the awkward nerd he is rather than the sauve fuckboy he's mistaken for — that Cordelia is reminded why she loves him.

Cordelia scribbles an answer underneath her _maybe_ on the top of her page, half-way through writing out _sure_ , (she's stuck on the r), when phones start to simultaneously ring. Cordelia sighs, pretending to be above the Gossip Girl craze, the madness induced by the anonymous blogger who rules and dictates all their lives more than she cares to admit. Harmony giggles, reaching for her phone and gasping as she watches the latest snap story. Cordelia is intrigued as a hum of like-minded gasps full the room. Giles, despite being the _cool_ teacher, can do little to gain their attention. She removes her own phone from her skirt pocket, sliding open the notification and watching as her best friend walks through Grand Central Station. The caption reads _Buffy Summers, Spotted._

It feels like a pin drops in the class.

Everyone is silent, awaiting her reaction. Angel watches from over her shoulder, his eyes widening in shock, in fear that Cordelia would be unable to place if she managed to glimpse his reaction.

Anya is the first to speak, "I don't see the big deal." She cuts through the silence bluntly, shrugging her shoulders. "She isn't the hottest bitch around."

Cordelia doesn't even ask to leave the class. She just grabs her bag and rushes out before she does something embarrassing, like _cry_.

•

Buffy straightens her mini-skirt as she steps out of the train. It feels weird being back in a city that feels like a stranger to her now. Everything seems different. Tainted from the months she's spent on the other side of the country. It doesn't feel like home anymore. _But it's still home_. As her mother so helpfully reminded her on the other end of the phone, words laced with anger as she spoke about the little sister Buffy left behind without a single good-bye. It's the only thing that pulls her towards the city she left ten months ago, bidding adieu in a yellow sundress.

Her eyes search the crowd for the same sister, but her eyes don't spot her. Her lips tug downwards, her hands reaching for her phone in her jacket pocket. _One new text from Joyce._ Buffy sighs, already knowing what it'll say. I couldn't make it. Or something to that effect. It's unsurprising that she wouldn't want to welcome her daughter home with open arms but Buffy manages to be surprised regardless. _They won't let Dawn out. She can't make it._ Oh, Buffy thinks as she reads it. Her heart sinking to the bottom of her chest as she's reminded why she's here. Her little sister lying in a hospital bed. _Her little sister visiting her father in L.A._ The Summer Sisters reunited through Joyce's lie.

Buffy slips her phone back into her pocket, picking up the bags she's left lying at her feet. Hurriedly, she slips through the crowds of people. Careful to shelter her face from any phones that could take a photo of her and give away her arrival. Buffy still needs to figure out what she's going to say to her friends, she doesn't need to be blindsided by Gossip Girl. It had taken a lot of courage for her to step foot back on New York soil, it'll take even more courage to be able to look her friends in the eye and try to explain her absence. No warning. No goodbye. _Try to explain it to Cordelia._ Buffy cringes just thinking about the words she won't be able to say, can see her best friend standing in front of her with a disapproving frown.

It won't be easy. But it would be easier if she could hear the news from Buffy herself.

If Buffy brought into _fate_ and _destiny_ then she would attach those words to what happened to her next. Her Louis Vuitton overnight bags were slipping from her forearms, not used to carrying the weight herself, and they fell to the floor. But before they hit the floor, they hit a brunette. Knocking her slightly off of her feet, the only way she could balance herself was by grabbing onto Buffy's arm.

"Fuck," She swore, looking up at Buffy, her eyes crinkling slightly as she placed her as the society princess that was an old ghost-tale in the halls of her new school. It was hard to miss the legend-like stories or the framed photos of her in the cabinet display. Harder to miss her presence on the multiple social media platforms everyone around her was obsessed with, that Faith couldn't give a second fuck about. But had studied extensively before her first day. (There was also an incident a few years ago where Buffy acknowledged her presence at a party that Faith had crashed). "Watch where you're going." Faith half-laughs, half-warns. Bitter with the wealth and privilege girls like Buffy Summers possess and captivated with her presence before her. She was even more beautiful in person.

"I'm sorry." Buffy replied, words rushing out of her mouth as she pushed past Faith. The words thrown over her shoulder apologetically, a soft smile thrown towards Faith before Buffy disappeared back into the crowd. Blending into every other New Yorker despite the golden glow washed over her tan skin, the clothes that cost more money imaginable and the soft golden hair cut to her shoulders. Faith's eyes searched her out for a second longer than necessary before her newly required step-brother let out a loud chuckle.

"Shut up, Xander." Faith snapped, eyes burning a hole into him. He held up his hands in mock surrender.

"I said nothing." He protested, hand held over his heart. " _I swear._ "

"I can read your mind." Faith dead-panned. In the months following their parents subsequent marriage — a match made in hell - her alcoholic absentee mother and his alcoholic abusive father — she'd been forced to grow attached to the lingering fungus that was Xander Harris.

His retort was stopped short by the arrival of their parents. Her mother had filed for child support shortly after marrying Xander's father and since Faith's dad turned out to be some big hot-shot movie star, they got quite the settlement to keep Faith's existence quiet instead. Enough money for the two newly-weds to flit across the world to a myriad of destinations, while leaving their two teens at home in the big, lonely penthouse they'd brought with the money. It was enough to send Faith and Xander to a private school on the Upper East Side, mingling with those who were born with wealth and looked down at the two of them like they were beneath them because they found their way into the status of _new money_. New money that neither of their parents made, either. Being the off-springs of gold-diggers made for an unwelcoming, hostile gaggle of snobs. Faith wanted no part of it. Xander was dying to become apart of it.

"How was the trip?" Xander asked, clapping his hands together as their parents begin a string of rambling sentences about how _beautiful but rude_ France was. Faith rolled her eyes as she trailed after the three of them, her eyes catching sight of Buffy Summers one last time. Her legs emphasised by the length of her short skirt, lean and tan and  _fuck_ — Faith thought as her eyes trailed off of her. She was totally crushing on Buffy Summers. _Maybe._

•

Cordelia placed her hands against the cold tile of the bathroom sink, trying to regulate her breathing. _That fucking bitch._ First, she leaves without a word and Cordelia has to call Joyce up because Buffy's been avoiding her texts and calls and snapchats and hasn't been at school for three days. Then, Joyce tells her Buffy's decided to go live with her dad out in L.A. _Didn't she tell you?_ Cordelia's fingers curl around the edge of the sink as she remembers, her fingers turning white. And now Buffy Summers has decided to waltz back into the city, with her stupid little leather jacket around her shoulders that Cordelia has _always_ hated.

Fuck. Cordelia manages to get her breathe under control and lets go of the sink's edge, splashing some water on her face to cool herself down before reapplying a new layer concealer underneath her eyes and a fresh coat of lip gloss. It would be no surprise if Buffy waltzed into the open doors of Sunnydale prep and commanded the whole school underneath her Los Angeles charm and good-girl smile. But no way is Cordelia going to let _that_ happen. In her eyes, she's content to forget that Buffy Summers even existed. Much less was her best friend.

The door to the bathroom opens and Anya inches into view, silently shutting the door behind her.

"Forget her." Anya says as she steps closer to Cordelia. In the months since Buffy's vanishing act, Anya has become the closest thing Cordelia has to a _real_ best friend. Harmony has been with her since the days of infancy but she's just a follower, hanging off of Cordelia's every word like she's her savior. Darla has always been tolerable but she harbours a deep seething hatred for the girl underneath the layers of Dior she wears. Anya can match Cordelia's wit and bluntness, keep her on her toes, and has always been there whenever Cordelia's needed a genuine shoulder to cry on. Not that Cordelia _cries_. Much less _in front_ of people. But if she did, Anya would be her top pick for who would see her.

"I am." Cordelia replied, feeling ridiculous that Buffy's sudden arrival was getting to her this much. _But she didn't even call._

"Doesn't look like it." Anya tells her, grabbing the lip gloss out of her hands and applying it to her own lips. Cordelia balances her hands on her hips, pursing her lips as she watches Anya. "Buffy Summers has always been a two-faced bitter bitch. I've never seen why you were friends with her."

Cordelia nods her head in agreement. "Buffy Summers is going _down._ "

Harmony is the next to rush into the bathroom, slightly short of breathe and with Darla trailing behind her. "Oh my god!" Harmony squealed, latching onto Cordelia.

Darla slowly walked towards them, with a sultry confidence that other girls envy. Not Cordelia, though; the only person she's ever felt insecure around is Buffy and even then, it never lasted long. Cordelia has always had the kind of confidence other girls try so hard to fake.

"Harmony, try not to pierce everyone's eardrums." Cordelia scolds, taking her lip gloss back off of Anya and sliding it into her purse.

"Sorry." Harmony smiles sheepishly, "But isn't this great? Buffy's _finally_ coming home."

"Sure." Cordelia smiled brightly, _fake-fake-fake._ She caught Anya's questioning eyebrow and shook her head. According to everyone other than Anya, Buffy and Cordelia were still on speaking terms. "I can't wait. It's just _wonderful_." Harmony, too dim to pick up on her bitter tone, kept rambling on about how much she had missed the lying bitch that had left Cordelia's life without a single goodbye.

Darla was no Harmony, though. She was intelligent and observant and had finally found a weakness to the unbreakable Cordelia Chase. "You don't look that thrilled, Cordy. Aren't you happy?"

"I'm overjoyed." Cordelia replied. "Buffy's my best friend, of course. I've just known for much longer, that's all."

Darla raised an eyebrow and Anya interjected with, "That's not true. You just found out."

Scratch that thing about Anya being her closest friend. Everyone she knew just turned out to be _traitors._ "No, Buffy told me a week ago when she first decided to come back. Turns out L.A. was a _bore_." Cordelia spun around and pointedly said to Anya.

Anya got the message and shut her mouth before she let anything else slip.

"She told you?" Darla inquired. "Did she tell you when she left?"

"Of course." Cordelia lied, picking her purse up off of the sink. "What are best friends for? Now if you'll excuse me."

Cordelia pushed past the crowd that had gathered in the bathroom, knocking Darla's shoulder on her way out. Fucking bitches who thought they could know every area of her life. _Please_. Her leather patent Mary Jane's click against the vinyl composition tiles that line the school halls. Her phone still dangles from her fingertips and she wonders if Buffy will even bother to call and inform her herself that she's back in the city that she left without a word. Cordelia hopes not.

(Cordelia hopes that she _does_ ).

The bell rings as she pushes open the door back to her first period class. Students rushing out, knocking into her as they leave the class. Angel lingers around the back of the room, flanked by his ever-obnoxious friend Spike. Cordelia scowls at the sight of the bleached blonde, rolling her eyes at him as she stomps towards her desk. Giles starts to say something up the front, words held on the tip of his tongue. He had always known Buffy, had always liked her best. He'd married her mother when Buffy was twelve, Cordelia remembers because she'd been a bridesmaid along with Buffy. But they had gotten divorced when Buffy turned fifteen.

He is probably enthralled by the news. Along with everyone else who can't wait for the Golden Girl to return.

"It's time that that hot little bod returns." Spike grins, slimy, as he knocks his shoulders in jest with Angel who remains unimpressed. "Buffy's always been...delectable."

Cordelia frowns. "Save your warped, twisted obsession with her and your tragic lack of talent at poetry at home." Cordelia briefly looks at Angel before adding, " _Please_."

She gathers her books in her arm and slides them into her bag, slinging the Marc Jacobs backpack over her shoulders. She slips her hand into Angel's and tugs him out of the classroom, saying a quick goodbye to Giles and leaving Spike behind like dust.

"At least you're not excited for Buffy's sudden return." Cordelia tells him as they walk to second period Statistics together, "Right?"

He swallows the lump forming in his throat, pushing back the memories of the night of a wedding many months ago, and nods his head. "Right." He tells Cordelia, squeezing her hand softly. Cordelia nods her head, a soft little _humph_ from her lips and her usual denial of anything out of the ordinary between her two best friends. Denial had always been her best game.

•

Buffy finds herself standing outside of the Ostroff Centre at ten in the morning, wringing her hands and pacing outside of the front steps. Her little sister lies beyond the walls, trapped in a room that's not her own for _god-knows-how-long_ because Joyce is too much of a careless, absentee mother to allow Dawn back home. Buffy bites down the bitterness rising in her throat and twists open the door-knob.

Inside she's met with a blast of cool, fresh air and blank white walls. It's the best centre around for keeping secrets quiet. _Cold._ Buffy gravitates towards the receptionist, her nails tapping against the counter of the desk as she asks for her sister's room.

"Visiting hours aren't until 11." The receptionist tells her. He's mid-twenties. He's _wrong._ Buffy needs to see her.

"She's my sister, I have to see her." He looks at her blankly and she wonders if anyone here has any semblance of human emotion or if her mother had found her own kind to push Dawn into. "Please." Buffy all but begs, staring towards the row of doors.

"Dawn Summers is room 203, down the left corridor."

Buffy barely pauses to say thank you before racing off towards room 203, pausing suddenly in front of the door and taking a deep breathe. Dawn is inside. Her little Dawnie who she used to stay up late with, holding her hand when their latest step-father left or got too loud, or when the house was empty while Joyce was on a spa retreat or on one of her many trips. Flighty, irresponsible Joyce is nowhere to be seen now.

Buffy pushes open the door and smiles when she sees Dawn propped up in bed, one of those tween magazines held between her fingertips.

"Hey." Buffy says, quietly.

Dawn looks up, eyes widening in surprise, fresh with tears. "Buffy!" Dawn exclaims, pushing back the covers on her bed and swinging her legs out onto the floor. Her little body barrels into Buffy, knocking her back a few steps. Buffy tangles her fingers in Dawn's brown tresses, so different from her own and smells the the familiar scent of fruity shampoo that always comes attached to Dawn.

"I'm so sorry." Buffy whispers into her hair, hugging her tight. Promising herself that she'll never let go of the thirteen year old in her arms, _not ever._ "I should have been there for you."

Dawn lets go of her, slipping her arms out from under her. Hands on her hips. Buffy breaks a smile at the sight in front of her. It's familiar, just in different walls. "Yeah. You shouldn't have left." Dawn says coolly, one thing Buffy has always equally loved and loathed about her sister: her inability to cover up her own feelings just to make Buffy feel better.

"I know." Buffy says, moving forward to sit on Dawn's bed. Patting the space Dawn was occupying moments earlier. Dawn curls her legs up underneath her, picking up the magazine she'd been reading before Buffy barged in.

"Didn't Joyce tell you I was coming?" Buffy asks. Dawn rolls her eyes.

" _Mom_ didn't tell me anything." Dawn says, raising an eyebrow at Buffy's refusal to call her by anything other than her first name.

"Does she visit you a lot?" Buffy asks.

Dawn shrugs her shoulders. "Not really. Sometimes in the mornings she'll stop by before she goes to the gallery. Quick hello's, quick goodbye's. Everyone thinks I'm in L.A. at Dad's, with you."

Buffy nods her head, reaching out to stroke her sister's hair again. Afraid that some day she won't be able to touch her. That one day she'll be gone for good. "I know. I wish you had been there." Buffy smiles, eyes blurry with a fresh onslaught of tears.

Dawn rolls her eyes. "I'm fine." _It's a lie._ Her sister can't be fine with her wrists are marked with fresh cuts and there was an empty bottle of pills she'd fished out from underneath Buffy's bed. "How was L.A.?" Dawn grins as she asks and Buffy thinks she can leave it for now, ask Dawn another time about why she chose to write a note saying her goodbyes and swallow too many party pills. For now she can relay tales of sprawling L.A. mansions and parties that are a blur, endless days of shopping and sun, frolicking around on the beach and the cold glares from their step-mother.

"It was fun." Buffy tells her. "It's changed a little. Not that you'd remember much." Buffy had moved out to New York with her mother and little sister when she was four, after a nasty divorce following Dawn's birth.

"Meet any cute boys?" Dawn teases.

Buffy smiles thinly, the last boy she had when she'd been in the city had gotten her into so much trouble she'd run herself out of town. Not that Dawn knew anything about that. _Not that anyone knew anything about that._ "A few." Buffy replied coyly, "L.A. boys are much... _hotter_." Buffy laughed, unable to find a more accurate word.

"Any keepers?" Dawn asked, knowing her sister's track record for relationships. Boys came. Boys left. Boys never stayed.

Buffy shrugged her shoulders, eyes cast downward on the bed, plucking her fingers against the cheap sheets. Buffy knows her family is shelling out a fair price for the centre, the _least_ they could do was buy higher thread count sheets. "None that were serious." Only one boy had ever been serious for Buffy, and she'd made the biggest mistake of her life by going _there_ with him.

Dawn let out a disappointed sigh. "Here I was hoping for a brother-in-law."

"Sorry, kiddo. You're stuck with just plain 'ole me."

•

Angel found himself lingering outside of the Palace hotel after school had been let out, an unlit joint pressed in between his fingers. He watched from one of the benches outside as families and women and men came in and out of the hotel. His eyes seeking out a blonde he hadn't seen since the night she flew from New York, his dress shirt hanging around her thighs and her lipstick imprinted in his skin like a bad memory.

He could really use a lighter, he thought as he glanced down at his hand.

He could still taste the tequila they'd stolen that night, fresh on his tongue. He could still feel the ends of her hair brushing against his shoulder. He could still see it all vividly, playing on repeat. He would have left Cordelia for her. He would have lit the whole god damn city on fire for her. Gone to the ends of the earth for her. But she'd chosen to leave instead, flee in the middle of the night with his shirt on her shoulders and the memory of him burning her skin like a cross pressed to a vampire.

Angel spots her just as he's about to leave. Mini skirt and high heels and a tanned glow that looks out of place among the dreary New York weather.

"Buffy!" He calls, running to reach her. His hand reaches out for her forearm, fingers curling around her skin. Buffy brushes him off, untangling from his grasp. She eyes the joint in his hand, wanting to lit it and put it in her own mouth, before remembering that she's _good_ now. Reformed. Like an angel out of the ashes of destruction she's risen.

"Angel." She greets coolly. She spent months trying to forget the coldness of his hand pressed against her thigh. He left a bad taste in her mouth that she's never been able to wash out. "How are you?" She asks, polite and distant. Before, they used to share everything. Now she can barely look at him without remembering the trial of pain she has caused. Cordelia doesn't even know, probably. Angel has always been weak in that regard, like her.

"Fine." He brushes his feelings off, staring at her intently. Like he's unable to believe that she's here. Buffy feels uncomfortable underneath his gaze, uncomfortable with the level of hurt she's caused. "You left." He tells her, pointing out the obvious.

"I did." Buffy agrees, crossing her arms across her chest.

"I would have done anything for you." He tells her sincerely, she doesn't doubt his words. It's what hurts most of all.

"Angel," She says softly. "What happened between us was a mistake." A mistake that could have brought the whole world around them to it's knees. Chaos and destruction brought forth by their inability to keep their hands off each other.

Hurt flashes across his face and she wonders how Cordelia is, if she knows.

"I wouldn't call it that." He tells her.

Buffy wants to tell him a million different things, but she keeps them bottled up inside. One single word reminding him of everything she can't say. "Cordelia." Buffy reminds him, eyes soft and voice strangled, her estranged best friend caught in the cross fire.

"But you're back now." He tells her, reaching for her once again.

Buffy closes her eyes, takes a step away from him. "But I didn't come back for you." Then stalks off inside the hotel without a second word.

•

Her hotel room card feels heavy in her hands as she trudges up the stairs, opting them instead of the elevator. Joyce is redecorating again. Her mother never satisfied. Her phone rings the minute she slips the card key into the slot, the door opening for her. Inside is a bleak and dreary room, decorated beautifully but devoid of any emotion. It's much like the penthouse being redecorated.

Buffy throws the card key down onto the table, falling onto the leather couch as she takes out her phone. It's Cordelia.

If she closes her eyes she can see a lifetime of memories flicker past: her hand in the crook of her elbow, her fingers holding back her hair, glitter sprinkled across their arms, laughing as the sun comes up, the top of the MET steps with their thighs pressed together and low fat yogurt in their hands, matching red and pink bows in their hair as they giggle along the playground.

Her finger presses down on _answer_ and she brings the phone to her ear. "Hello."

"Oh, good." Cordelia replies, "I was starting to worry that you had somehow become Ariel and lost your voice to speak. It would explain the months of radio silence."

Buffy hasn't missed the theatrics that come attached to Cordelia like a bad curse, her tactlessness not among her best qualities in Buffy's eyes. "Can we grab dinner?" She asks. Buffy hopes for the best, knowing she has a lot to work through with Cordelia if she wants to get back in her good graces, if she wants things to fall into place like they once had been.

Cordelia sighs on the other end. "I have plans with Angel."

 _Angel_ , Buffy wonders if he'll mention that he saw her today. But it doesn't seem that he's mentioned there tryst, so.

"He can wait." Buffy tells her. It's not like Angel is going to be sitting around waiting for Cordelia. If he loved her he wouldn't have been outside of the Palace minutes earlier, declaring he'd _have_ done anything for her. If he loved Cordelia, he wouldn't even be thinking about her.

Cordelia heaves out a sigh and Buffy can see her in her mind, right now: stretched out across her bed, school uniform off, silk sheets underneath her, repainting her nails a sparkly silver.

"I _guess_." Cordelia relents, "He is incredibly patient." Her voice goes soft and Buffy feels another twist of guilt hit her, like a pile of bricks. "And you are my best friend, after all." Cordelia says it like she doesn't mean it. Buffy's been neglected to the other girls in their clique: unimportant, fake.

"Meet me at the Palace bar at seven. You can still make your date." Buffy tells her, curling her fingers around her phone more tightly.

Cordelia hums, "Missed you, Buffy." There's a coldness to her tone that Buffy's not familiar with and a softness to it she knows like the back of her hand.

"Missed you, too, Cordy." Hers is all sincerity.

Buffy hangs up, nervously running her hand over her skirt and panics: _what is she going to wear?_

•

Faith reclines backwards on her bed, earphones in. Her phone is open to Gossip Girl's instagram, _not that she'd ever admit it._ Her eyes on the latest post - it's of Buffy and of _Faith_. There she is, in the picture with Buffy. The caption reads: Golden Girl and Lonely Girl @ Grand Central Station.

Her heart beats a little faster. Faith has a weakness for cute girls, that's all.

Xander knocks on her door before waiting two seconds and then he barges in, his red-headed best friend trailing after him. "Hey, Faith. We were grabbing a bite to eat, wanna come with?"

Willow nods her head enthusiastically. While Faith has become accustomed to Xander, his constant presence leaves no other option, she's never been able to warm up to his quiet best friend. They share nothing in common. Willow is all nerd and Faith is all not; Xander is a healthy balance between the two, with his own other interests, leaving him a good friend for both of them but neither of them a good friend for each other. Not that Willow doesn't try, Faith grimaces.

"I'm good." Faith says, waving them away. Her eyes going back to her screen. Xander takes a step closer, peering over her phone. His grin lights up like it's Christmas morning and they're both rich with families that love them or _somethin'._

"Aw," He coos, flopping down onto her bed. Willow trails after him, looking at a lost and she awkwardly hangs around the edge of Faith's bed. Is it too much to be asked to be left alone?

"Oh. You know Buffy Summers?" Willow asks, about to begin one of her infamous rambles that Faith _just adores_. Faith rolls her eyes, shooting Xander a look that Willow misses. "We used to have classes together before she left for L.A., she's really nice. Was always really nice to me. You know, always talked to me. We used to study together sometimes."

Willow pauses, glancing at Faith. Her rambling being cut off by the glare Faith was sending her.

"Play nice, Faith." Xander told her, slapping her shoulder lightly.

"She ran into me this morning, the spoiled princess." Faith growls.

Willow nods, feeling out of place. "Oh, well, she's actually not as bad as the others."

Faith raises an eyebrow. "Like you're not bad?"

Willow came from money, just like the rest of Sunnydale prep, but she seemed to still resemble something _human_. If you took away her extraordinary intelligence and lack of social skills. But she wasn't like the rest of the stuck-up rich population of the school, something that made Xander cling on to her immediately. Also, the whole, knowing each other from childhood thing. Same primary school or something. Willow's parents thought it best if she mingled with a normal crowd in her first years of schooling. Faith didn't really understand it all, the world of the rich was still a foreign concept to her.

Red flamed across Willow's cheeks, "What - oh. No. I don't - "

"It's cool, Will. Faith's just being Faith. Let's just leave her alone to wallow in her crush." Xander teased, standing up and grabbing Willow's hand.

"I don't have a crush." Faith told him, looking at Willow as she said it.

"Of course not." Willow nodded, getting the message Faith was sending her. _Don't believe I have a crush cos I don't._ "But if you did, I hear she's staying at the Palace hotel."

With that, the two friends left her room. Faith let out a sigh of peace before throwing a pillow at her door in frustration. To go to the Palace hotel or to not go. It seemed reckless and foolish to spontaneously show up in the hopes of getting a glimpse of the infamous Buffy Summers, but it also seemed like letting an opportunity go to waste if she stayed at home. Faith pondered her options for a moment, glancing down at her phone once more, before slipping off the bed.

•

Buffy held two dresses up in front of her frame: one a low-cut short red dress and one a long velvety black gown. Both not suitable options. Groaning with frustration, she flopped backwards onto the hotel bed and covered her face with her hands. Her suitcases had been packed hurriedly, without practicality. Buffy had heard her sister had tried to kill herself and had hopped onto the first train leaving L.A.

Finally, she settled on a black turtleneck and a white wool mini skirt, paired with her favourite pair of high-heeled boots. _Her lucky pair_. Or, so Cordelia had once dubbed them. Buffy needed more than just luck for this dinner.

Ten to seven, she wandered downstairs. She grabbed a seat at the front of the bar, flashed the waiter the fake I.D. she had stuffed in her purse and ordered herself a cocktail. It was a treat. It didn't mean she was falling back into the old patterns she was trying to escape. It just meant that seeing Cordelia again after months apart was nerve-wracking. It just meant she needed to calm herself down.

Slowly, she took sips from her glass. Trying to steady her intake. Cordelia arrived two minutes past seven and the drink was finished by the time she walked over to the bar. Cordelia wore a dress that once belonged to Buffy, she could tell immediately by looking at it. It was black, mid-thigh and low cut. It left little imagination to the kind of date that Cordelia and Angel would be having later on, Buffy swallowed back the mistakes of the past and smiled at her old friend. She stood up to greet her, wrapping her arms around her in an awkward hug.

Cordelia slid into the chair and ordered herself a martini, before turning to face a still-standing Buffy.

"Sit." Cordelia ordered. "I don't have a lot of time."

Buffy did as she was told, feeling like this wasn't real. This was a dream she was stuck in. Any minute, she'd wake up in L.A.

"It's been a while." Cordelia acknowledged nonchalantly.

"I'm sorry for leaving." Buffy blurted out, overcome with a rare case of _emotions._ It had been a while since she thought she was going to burst into tears. But she had left without a word, had just left her world behind and it wasn't until she was back in it that she had realised how much she had missed it.

Cordelia's face didn't soften, it hardened. "Yes, well. I've always known you were a cold-hearted bitch." Cordelia said smoothly, taking a sip of her drink.

It startled Buffy, but this was _her_ Cordelia. Blunt and to the point.

"I deserved that." Buffy said.

"You deserve a lot worse than that." Cordelia tells her, eyebrow raised. Buffy wonders fleeting (again) if she knows before brushing the thought aside. Cordelia wouldn't give her the time of day if she knew and Angel wasn't foolish enough to tell her. He did love her at the end of the day. "But I'm a forgiving person."

It felt like an ocean existed between them.

But in a second the gap was closed by Cordelia's smile. It had always been the brightest thing in the room.

"You're back now. It doesn't matter how much you hurt me. I'm sure you have you reasons and while I doubt they're any _good_ ," Cordelia raises an eyebrow, an _we'll get to that later_ , "I've missed you. Most of the girls are losers who can't think for themselves. It's been lonely without you around."

Buffy relaxes, falling herself slipping back into the role of Cordelia's best friend. "I've missed you more."

Cordelia grins, giggling. "It's not a competition. Now, let's drink, and you'll tell me about L.A. But _quickly_." Cordelia rushes her, pressing her fingertips into the skin of Buffy's arm, affectionate and teasing as she leans in closer. "Tonight's the night - me and Angel." Cordelia tells her, feeling giddy of the knowledge. It's something she can't share with anyone else - all the other girls believe she's not a virgin, she's an excellent liar when the societal pressures call for it.

"Oh." Buffy gasps, surprised. The dress suggested as much. But it still managed to shock her. "Congratulations, Cordy." She said, trying not to throw up. Angel had been a virgin himself until that night, the two of them _drunk, drunk, drunk_ \--

"I'm really excited." Cordelia continued. "I just feel like we've waited enough, you know?"

Buffy nodded her head. It felt like the room was spinning around her. She was a bad friend. A betrayed. A slut. A whore. A liar. "I don't want to keep you waiting any longer." Buffy lied. It was just too hard to stand in front of Cordelia and talk about _this_ with her, like she hadn't done what she had done. "Go!" Buffy encouraged, giggling. "We can catch up tomorrow."

Cordelia nodded her head, finishing her drink off and standing up. "We're good, right?" Cordy asked.

Buffy nodded her head. "We're good."

The two of them shared a brief hug, tight, one that lingered after it had finished. Then Cordelia disappeared into the night. Buffy slumped back into her seat, ordering another drink.

"Well, well, well." Spike's voice echoed from behind her. Buffy shuddered at the sound. "If it isn't little miss sunshine." Spike growled, before slipping into the seat Cordelia had previously occupied. His fingers run up her leg as he leaned in closer. "Does your mother know you're drinking underage?"

"Not if you don't tell your father." Buffy replied, pushing his hand off of her leg. Her body had turned rigid. The last thing she wanted to deal with tonight was _Spike_ and his unwarranted, unwanted sexual advances; they'd been happening for years.

"Want something to eat, pet?" He asks. "It's not good to drink on an empty stomach."

Buffy pushed herself away from the bar, stumbling slightly on her boots as she tried to move away from Spike. He wound his fingers around her wrist to steady her.

"I'll survive, _thanks._ " Buffy retorted, moving to turn away from him once again. He wouldn't cause a scene in public, would he? His grip tightened around her wrist, dragging her towards the kitchen.

"Spike." Buffy whined, shaking off his grasp. "I'm not hungry. I'm not interested."

"I have waffles." He taunted. Buffy laughed out loud, that was the aspiring poet's great line? _I have waffles._

"So does the bar, I'm sure of it." Buffy retorted.

Spike shook his head. "I can get the kitchen staff to make you them, but the bar doesn't stock waffles."

"I'll order room service to send them up." Buffy really did want waffles now that he mentioned it. Spike shook his head, explaining once again, how only the kitchen staff could make her waffles. The offer was tempting. It wouldn't be like Spike would try anything in the kitchen, either. Buffy relented.

"Fine." She heaved, following him to the kitchen. To the promised land of waffles.

•

Faith felt ridiculous as she stood outside the hotel. It was an insane idea.

Buffy would probably be in her room anyway, not hanging around the bar or waiting area. Faith wandered in regardless, feeling out of place in the glitzy hotel despite the money now attached to her name.

Her eyes sought out a blonde: girls passing in and out, but none of them Buffy.

Faith couldn't believe she was risking her reputation for a chance sighting. Xander would never let her hear the end of it.

•

Buffy chomped on the waffle happily, eyes flicking over to where Spike lounged against the kitchen counter conversing with staff. _He was such a pig_ , she thought. His eyes flicking back over to her and smirking like the piece of dirt he was.

She finished the waffle, feeling full and satisfied and moved to swing her legs off of the counter she'd been perched on. Spike said something to the chef and she watched as the kitchen staff began to leave, Spike strutting over towards her. He pressed a hand to her thigh and one over her head, leaving her trapped in the space between him and the wall. She frowned, unimpressed.

"Was the waffle good?" He asked.

"It was just an ordinary waffle." Buffy bit back, pushing his chest lightly. He staggered backwards.

"Come on," He whined, "One kiss?"

"Oh my god, Spike." Buffy laughed, unable to believe her own ears. Maybe she had drunk more than she thought she had. "It was just a _waffle_."

He pouted, not used to not getting what he wanted. He was an entitled little prick.

"But..." He trailed off, leaning in closer towards her. Buffy rolled her eyes. It was not how she wanted her night to go. "You'll sleep with Angel."

Buffy froze in place, eyes slowly meeting Spike's.

_He knew._

Fuck.

_He knew._

"Angel told you?" Buffy asked, voice soft and quiet and vulnerable. She felt so small. So little. If he had told Spike, then he could have told Cordelia. If he had told Spike, Spike could have told Cordelia. If he had told Spike, he could hold it over Buffy's head.

Spike shook his head. "I _saw_." He tangled his fingers in her hair.

"You perv." Buffy pushed his chest, kicking him in the balls as he pressed his lips against hers. Spike groaned, watching as Buffy run out of the doors of the kitchen.

"You little bitch!" He called after her.

•

Last minute, Cordelia had cancelled the Captain America plans and invited Angel around instead. Her room was lit with candles, soft classical musical playing in the background. Her bed littered with roses. It would be romantic but spontaneous. It would be everything Cordelia had dreamed about, everything she wanted it be, all while being a surprise. She tapped her heels impatiently against her bedroom floor, wondering if the get-up was too much. Her dress was the same as she'd worn out to dinner but underneath it was an intricate lingerie set she'd purchased from La Perla.

 _Angel would die_.

Her door opened and Angel stepped inside. Immediately, she knew something was off. His face was not the one she was expecting. He wasn't radiating happiness, or joy, or excitement. He wasn't rushing towards her and kissing her. He was frozen in the doorway and Cordelia felt ridiculous, over-done, a cheap joke.

"Is it too much?" Cordelia asked, voice wavering slightly. Usually, she was confident but in this moment he was making her feel weak.

"It's unexpected." Angel swallows.

"I thought we had waited long enough." Cordelia explains.

Angel is silent. _He's leaving her for Darla_. Cordelia panics, wondering what is going on.

"Last year," Angel begins, moving closer towards the bed. He kneels in front of her. Like a priest at an alter. "At the Shepard wedding, the one you missed." Cordelia nods, confused as to where he was going with this. "I kissed Buffy."

Cordelia feels hell freeze over underneath her. "What?" She asks, afraid she'd heard wrong. Hoping she had heard wrong.

"I kissed Buffy." Angel repeated.

"But that's all." Cordelia said, reassurance not a question.

Upon Angel's look she knew it wasn't. Everything fell into place around her. Buffy's disappearance was around that time. Angel had been distant since she left.

"We had sex." Angel says. "We made - "

Cordelia interrupts him. "Don't fucking say it." She grits out, standing up and recoiling away from him in shock. He reaches for her hand but his touch burns her to the core. It feels like she's been lit on fire. Everything burning to flames around her.

"Get away from me." She yells at him. " _Leave!_ " Cordelia grabs the closet thing to her - a vase full of roses - and throws it at his head as he backs away from her.

"I _always_ knew there was something." Cordelia yells after him, watching his retreating figure before falling onto the bedroom floor. Crumbling into a miserable ball of tears.

_I always knew there was something._

•

Buffy runs head-first into a brunette girl lingering in the lobby, smashes right into her. The contents of her bag spilling out onto the floor. A quick apology rushed out as she sweeps everything back into her bag and runs back up the stairs.

Faith's eyes trail after her, holding her phone up in her hand. It was like a repeat of this morning: a play by play. Except, this time Buffy Summers was crying and had left her phone on the floor.

Like _A Cinderella Story._

•

Faith took the phone home. **_Impulse_**. What was she supposed to do with it? Buffy had disappeared up a flight of stairs, up into rooms spun from silk. Was Faith supposed to trail after her, waving her phone about? No. Instead, she'd slipped it into her pocket and hurried outside. Slipping out into the curtain of nightfall like a thief on the run, her fingers brushing against the phone that was not hers in her pocket.

It took Buffy an hour to notice it's disappearance. Or maybe just an hour to think of ringing her phone. Faith was at home, huddled underneath her covers with her phone open to Buffy's instagram. Her finger hovering over the follow button. _To follow or not to follow_. Faith was scared that if she hit that button, then Buffy would somehow know that she liked her. Or something. It's not like Faith is following anyone else from school. Not like Buffy even goes to the same school anymore. Not like -

Her thoughts are interrupted by the shrill sound of the opening notes to a Justin Bieber song. Faith pauses. Her cheeks flush red as she hears Willow's voice outside of her door. _Fuck_. She grabs the phone and presses answer, anything to stop the embarrassing notes of a song she doesn't know.

"Hello?" Faith hisses into the phone, throwing the covers off of her body and standing up. It dawns on her that this is Buffy's phone. The phone she stole.

"You have my phone." Buffy tells her. Her voice devoid of any accusation. Faith doesn't know how she's supposed to reply, she's never been good at playing nice.

"You dropped it." Faith retorts, "After running in to me for the _second_ time that day."

On the other end, surprisingly, Buffy _laughs_.

"Sorry." Buffy chuckled. Faith didn't want to admit that the sound caused her own lips to grow into a smile. The sound was a far cry from the outburst of tears Buffy had ran off in earlier in the night. "It's been a long day."

Faith understood the feeling. "Uh," Faith interrupted the peaceful silence that had fallen over the two of them. "Where do you want me to give you back your phone?"

Buffy laughed. "Oh. I had forgotten about that." Her giggle was infectious, making Faith feel infinitely lighter as she listened to it.

"I can drop it off at the Palace?" Faith offered. It surprised her that she'd offer to do something for someone else, but the day had been full of surprises.

Buffy heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you. I would really appreciate that, _mystery girl._ " Buffy teased.

Faith chuckled in response. "Faith."

Buffy hummed in approval. "And do you have a last name?"

"I'll see you in a half an hour, Summers."

Faith hung up, feeling satisfied with the nights turn of events. Her body was buzzing. It was like how she used to feel when she still did gymnastics, her body thrumming with something electric. With adrenaline. She swiped her her leather jacket off of the back of her chair and slipped it on. One quick glance in the mirror deemed her presentable but she didn't want to look _just_ presentable. Reaching forward she grabbed her only tube of lipstick and smacked it on her lips, quickly assessing the rest of her face before deciding the make up she was wearing would do.

She grabbed the two phones, slipping her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and holding Buffy's in her hand. Her lock screen was of a brunette girl and her double-chins, mid-laugh; a stark difference from Faith's plain standard lock-screen that Apple gave her with her phone.

"Going somewhere?" Xander asks, eyeing Faith as she pushes past him. Faith ignores him, grabbing a slice of pizza off of the plastic plates set up in the kitchen and shoving it down her mouth. "Didn't you just go out?" He teases.

"Shut up." Faith tells him, giving him the finger before slamming the door shut behind her and entering the cold New York air.

•

Faith spots Buffy immediately. She sits cross-legged in a plush velvet waiting room chair, flicking through one of those fashion magazines Faith has never been interested in. Her short hair is pulled into a small ponytail. Faith can't fight the grin that spills onto her lips as she walks towards her. Buffy looks up as Faith approaches, eyebrow raised as Faith steps in front of her.

"Faith?" Buffy asks, giving her a quick once-over; the kind of way girls always do to Faith, the kind of once-over that makes Faith feel uncomfortable, like she's not _good enough_. But she's always put on a brave front, fakes the confidence she carries with her like a pro. Buffy wouldn't suspect it at all.

"One and only." Faith smirks, handing over Buffy's phone.

Their fingers brush as Buffy grabs it, pressing her finger down on the home button and checking any new notifications. None. Zero. Zip. Her popularity has fallen into an endless pit of despair, unreachable, untouchable.

"Who's that?" Faith asks, nodding to the lock screen. Buffy smiles fondly at the girl in the picture, laughing as she looks at it.

"My sister." Buffy explains, patting the empty chair next to her for Faith to sit down in. Faith looks at it for a second before curling up onto it. "She's such a spaz." Buffy laughs, "Do you have siblings?" She asks, looking over at Faith.

Faith falters for a second. "A step-brother." She says at last.

"I've gone through a few myself." Buffy replies bitterly; step-fathers and step-siblings coming and leaving like revolving doors. In her youth, it had stung when Joyce's latest husband had taken whatever new friend away from her, but by the time she turned nine, she had learned not to care. It was Giles that was the only one that ended up truly hurting her, his disappearance from their house made it feel like she was a ghost living in the walls of a cold abandoned penthouse. Joyce was back to traveling and Buffy was back to snorting coke off of whatever available body at a party. He had been the only parental figure in her life who had cared and then he had _left_.

"He's not as bad as he once was." Faith offers, misinterpreting the bitterness for bitterness over a new _person_ in the house; someone who takes all the food you want; who leaves their toothbrush lying on the sink; who leaves dirty clothes around the apartment.

Buffy smiles at her, feeling a warm fluttering in her chest as she looks at her. "I'm sure he's wonderful." She says, sincerely. Her step-siblings never lasted more than a month, little brats that she either got along with or drove her up the wall. But she never missed them. She had Dawn. Maybe she would have missed them if she was an only child but Dawn was enough for her. Irritating, annoying, Dawn. Her heart sank to the bottom of her chest, a sharp reminder of why she had put herself back into the city; back into the hands of the Devil.

Faith grunted. "Wonderful is an overstatement."

It was that moment that Joyce Summers decided to show herself, pushing open the doors to the Palace and gliding through the halls like she was it's fucking Queen. Buffy rolled her eyes, unimpressed as her mother floated towards her. Buffy had been in the city for over twelve hours and it was the first appearance her mother had made in her life since she left months ago.

"Buffy." Joyce nodded. Eyed Faith up a little weirdly before brushing her off and turning her attention to her daughter. "I heard about the Kiss on the Lips party. I put a dress up in your room for you."

Buffy crinkled her eyebrow, it was the first _she_ had heard about the party. "I didn't get an invitation." She said slowly, wondering how her mother had heard about a party and she hadn't.

Joyce waved her hand in the air. "Nonsense. Cordelia's running it."

 _Oh._ Cordelia's hosting and failed to mention it? Buffy knew what that meant. She wasn't invited. She wasn't wanted. She wasn't _going_.

"It's tomorrow night." Joyce continued as a bright plan formed in Buffy's mind. Whoever said she wasn't smart?

"Actually Faith and I have plans tomorrow night." Buffy quickly interjected, shooting Faith a look that said _play along._

Joyce remained unimpressed, swiveling her attention back onto the girl sitting next to her daughter. In a leather jacket. With cheap combat boots. From first glance she could tell she wasn't worthy to be paid any attention what-so-ever by her daughter. "Hmm. And what are you two doing?"

Faith grinned. "Seeing Dingoes Ate My Baby perform."

Buffy nodded her head. "I'm a _huge_ fan."

Joyce sighed, "Very well. But if you change your mind, the dress is hanging up on the back of your door." With that Joyce turned around and found her way upstairs to their room.

"Thank you. Again." Buffy sighed, "You're like, my, _hero._ "

Faith noticed her moving from off of the chair, gathering her phone and bag. Faith smiled. "No problem. Pick you up at 7?"

Buffy froze. "Oh. You were serious about the band?"

Faith felt her insides flipping, nerves getting the best of her. But she always knew how to play it cool. "Yep. Big fan myself. Can get us good seats and everything."

Buffy's smile lit up her whole face, the whole god-damn room in Faith's eyes. "You'd really go out with some girl you don't know?" Buffy asked her.

Faith shrugged her shoulders. Thought of the girls at school she avoided. _Cordelia, Anya, Harmony, Darla_. The clique Buffy had once belonged to but didn't seem to be apart of, something about her didn't _fit_ with them. "Can't be worse than the girls I do know."

 •

Cordelia woke up with a plan. Letting Angel slip from her fingers like sand would be the worst mistake of her _life_. She loved him. He screwed up. Who doesn't? She's known him for so long, been friends with him for longer. He has his name carved inside of her own heart. It would be impossible for her to cut ties and to give him up. It just wouldn't _work_.

Slipping out of bed, she grabbed her phone and sent him a quick text telling him to meet her for sushi. Changing from her pajamas into a suitable outfit, she bid a quick goodbye to the maid out in the kitchen and grabbed her keys from the bowl in the foyer.

Her car sat proudly out on the sidewalk, one of her more prized possessions. Cordelia clicked her keys and opened the doors, sliding inside. Settling back against the leather interior. A wave of calm washed over her. Everything was at peace once again. Angel and her would be fine after a quick lunch, she'd set up for Kiss on the Lips tonight and she'd turn the whole school against Buffy Summers without ever saying _what_ happened. It would be fine. It would be better than fine.

Angel was already inside when Cordelia arrived to the sushi place, twiddling his thumbs and looking out of place down in the back of the room. He was adorable. Cordelia's heart melted at the mere sight of him as she navigated her way over to the table, slamming her bag down.

"Okay, Angel. Here it goes: I'm willing to forgive you if you never talk to Buffy. Ever. Again." Cordelia spat out, opening the menu in front of her. "We can work past this minor discretion. I love you and I'm not willing to lose you."

Angel was silent. "Um, okay." He agreed, at a loss for words. He knew he should argue that the request was stupid. That he wouldn't be obliging. But he didn't want to lose Cordelia, either; not if he couldn't have Buffy. Was it so wrong for him to have the best of both worlds?

•

Willow was sitting at the kitchen counter with two tickets in her hand when Faith woke up. "Two Dingoes Ate My Baby tickets." She said proudly, thrusting them into Faith's hands. Before Willow figured out that she was a lesbian with a capital L, she'd briefly dated the guitarist of the band. Then she'd met Kennedy and everything clicked in place around her. Oz and her had ended on good terms, remaining friends as they parted ways. Kennedy had lasted a few good months before an amicable break-up and now here she was: single, alone, with two tickets for Faith and Buffy.

"Thanks." Faith looked at them briefly before shoving them in the back pocket of her jeans. She grabbed some cereal off of the top shelf and a bowl, pouring Fruit Loops into the bowl as she looked at the dress and suit lying out on the table.

"What's that for?" Faith asked, nodding to the formal wear.

Willow blushed, looking embarrassed as Xander burst into the kitchen. "Hey, Hey, Hey." He said jokingly, grabbing the Fruit Loops out of Faith's hands and pouring some down his mouth. Faith rolled her eyes, grabbing the box back out of his hands.

"For the Kiss on the Lips party. Xander wanted to go so I made the invitations and got us an invitation." Willow shrugged her shoulders like it was no big deal.

"You made _how many_ invitations for that stuck-up lot just so _Xander_ could go to a party?" Faith asked, continually surprised with the lengths Willow went for for people. People meaning Xander.

"It was no big deal." Willow promised. Faith crooked an eyebrow, she didn't exactly get along with Willow, didn't exactly love her, but even she thought it was insane. "I'm looking forward to it, actually." Willow continued. "It's supposed to be fun."

"Sure. Who doesn't want to spend their night with spoiled, entitled rich kids?" Faith snorted, finishing the last of her fruit loops and putting the bowl in the sink.

Xander howled, "Says the girl who has a date with _Buffy Summers_."

Faith glared at him. Willow looked on in surprise, she'd been left out of the loop for who the second ticket would be going to.

"Shut up, Xander." Faith said as she walked past him, hitting him on the head as she made her way back to her room.

•

Buffy smoothed her dress down — _she hadn't felt this nervous in....forever._ It wasn't really a date. It was an excuse to get out of a party. It was...two girls hanging out as friends. Right? Buffy had done _stuff_ with girls before, but it had never meant anything. It didn't mean she wasn't straight. She liked boys. She _loved_ boys. Falling into quick infatuations with them that vanished in the morning, dwindling down when they stopped paying interest to her. Aside from Angel, she'd never really been in love with anyone and Angel was forbidden. He was off-limits. He was the forbidden fruit Buffy wanted, playing in the garden of Eden. He was not hers to be in love with. He was a pushed down memory, a second-thought. He was her all consuming drive to run away from the Upper East Side.

Faith was just a girl asking a friend out to see a band so she could avoid her old friends and any new enemies she'd made because of leaving. Buffy sighed, flopping down on her bed and wriggling out of her dress. It wasn't casual enough to see a  _band_. Buffy picked up a mini skirt and singlet combo, pairing it with a pair of boots. She could do casual. She could do casual like nobody else had _ever_ done casual.

With one quick call to Dawn, checking up on how her little sister is doing and a promise to sneak her out to a movie soon, Buffy gathers her belongings and leaves the house without bidding goodbye to Joyce.

Faith was waiting downstairs for her, in black ripped skinny jeans and a tank-top. Buffy felt overdressed in her girly ensemble, but strode towards Faith like insecurities were a thing of the past.

"Hey." Buffy greeted her. Eyes wandering up and down appreciatively, unabashedly. "You look good."

Faith grinned. "Don't look too bad yourself, B."

"B?" Buffy raised an eyebrow as she fell into step next to Faith.

Faith shrugged her shoulders, smirking slightly. _A secret she'll never tell._ "You ever heard Dingoes play before?"

Buffy shook her head. "Never heard of them."

Faith raised an eyebrow, she shouldn't be surprised but she was. "Oz and Devon go to Sunnydale."

Buffy gave her a blank stare. Faith heaved a sigh out in response.

"Devon's the lead singer. Oz is the guitarist. You know them, right?"

"Are you sure they go to Sunnydale?" Buffy paused. "Do _you_ go to Sunnydale?"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Yes to...?" Buffy trailed off.

"For both questions." Faith smirked.

"Oh." Buffy said, stopping in the street to mull something over. Faith kept up her pace. "Hey!" Buffy yelped when she noticed, running forward to catch up with her. "How come I've never seen you before? You'd be hard to miss."

"Says the girl who ran into me _twice_." Faith returned, all in a good nature. Being with Buffy was the lightest Faith had felt in a long time. Like the dead weight of her past was falling away from her. Buffy was sunshine, she was everything _good_.

"Sorry." Buffy blushed, swinging her hands together. "But how come I've never noticed you before now?"

"Could be because I started there when you were gone." Faith explained, shrugging like it was no big deal.

"Huh." Buffy said. "How do you know I go to Sunnydale then?"

Faith stopped, staring at her in astonishment. "You're Buffy Summers."

"So, what? I'm like, famous?"

"Around here? Yes." Faith snorted, moving forward in the crowd. Buffy rolled her eyes as she tried to catch up.

" _Hardly._ " Buffy scoffed.

"You're like a God." Faith replied.

"Please." Buffy returned. "I'm not a _God_."

Faith chuckled, shaking her head as she went round a corner, coming to a stop in front of a club. "We're here." Faith gestured to the club.

•

Xander had had enough of the party when Spike grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him up against a wall, billowing smoke in his face.

"What the fuck are _you_ doing here?" Spike asked, letting go of his collar. Xander's back banged against the wall.

"I was invited." Xander responded. His first wrong move.

"Like fuck you were." Spike told him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in one hand and slamming him back into the wall again.

He placed one swift punch to Xander's chin and Willow was having to call Faith.

•

Faith's phone rang half-way through grabbing ice-cream with Buffy, a pre-concert treat.

"Yeah?" Faith barked into the receiver, wasn't Xander at that lame party anyway? Why was he calling her.

Buffy licked at her cone, oblivious to Faith's annoyance.

"Hold on." Faith said suddenly, rolling her eyes as Willow relayed the story. "Yeah, yeah. He _owes_ me big time."

Buffy looked up from her cone, "Everything okay?"

"Wanna make an appearance at Kiss on the Lips?"

•

Cordelia watched from the sidelines as Buffy walked into the party like she owned the place. Standing out in a mini-skirt and a misfit by her side. Angel stood next to her, his eyes trailing over her slowly. Like a small child, Cordelia pressed her heel into the ground angrily.

"What is she doing here?" She wasn't _invited_." Cordelia bit out bitterly, pushing past Angel and walking towards Buffy. Only to see her and the freak she'd come with picking up the latest loser who'd found away to sneak into _her_ party and get his lights punched out by Spike. God, and that Willow girl was leaving with them, too. Freaks everywhere.

Buffy caught her eye - one split second of a stand-off, a war, tension exploding and fizzing around the room. Then she turned away, crawling outside with her band of merry-misfits. Cordelia watching from the sidelines as they slid into a taxi together, her fingers intertwined with the brunette.

 _Fucking wonderful._ Gossip Girl would have a field day.


End file.
